


Spouse House Trivia

by ajeepandleather



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Eloping, Everybody Lives, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Pack, Las Vegas, Light Angst, M/M, The Pack Ships It, minor miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajeepandleather/pseuds/ajeepandleather
Summary: Stiles and Derek get married in Vegas to apply for a newlywed game show. It's just supposed to be for a couple of moths while they wait for the application to go through and then long enough to win a trip to the Caribbean, but you might have guessed things don't always go to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For @verdantmoth on Tumblr who asked for - "Ok bUT STEREK FAKE MARRIAGE STYLE AU EXCEPT THAT they actually elope in like, Vegas. For the sole purpose of playing the NewlyWed games and winning a trip to wherever only they forget to tell EVERYONE ABOUT THE PLAN. And like, fluff and friends to lover and stuff." like forever ago and I didn't even manage to follow the prompt but whatever.

“Thanks for coming with us, Der,” Erica tells him, Allison agreeing from somewhere inside the hotel room. Erica is swaying on her feet, eyes glazed just enough to tell him she’s had her fun and he smiles. She’s leaning heavily against the doorframe and he thinks maybe he should stay for a few minutes to make sure they make it to bed alright.

“What kind of Alpha would I be if I didn’t try to keep you out of trouble?” He asks her, smirking a bit more as he spots Allison and Lydia over Erica’s shoulder, twirling around the room until they flopped down onto a bed  
.  
“The kind that never said there was stuff that could get ‘wolves drunk, you ass,” Erica tries to glare at him, but the usually sharp look is ruined with the way her whole demeanor seems to be a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Someone has to keep you guys in check, pup,” he strokes her hair gently before turning to leave down the hallway.

“We’re twenty one!” She calls after him, but Derek keeps walking sure to keep an ear out for the shuffling of feet and the quiet clicks of the door closing and locking behind his beta.

He was very aware of their ages, how Isaac had just turned the legal age to drink a few weeks before, how this week in Vegas was supposed to celebrate how they all managed to survive to this milestone in adulthood. Derek remembers the time when he used to marvel at how juvenile his pack was, how young and weak and the way his chest would constrict with the fear of anyone coming to attack while they were so unstable.

They’ve come a long way since then, they had grown, flourished in a way that Derek had never dared to hope for in the thick of all the supernatural chaos from just a few short years ago. They were constantly in danger, so often in fact that it made them all antsy when there wasn’t something going wrong. Derek still has a hard time grasping how calm the world seems to be now, but Scott always gives him the same response when he voices his concern –

“The Hale pack is back,” A trademark Sunny Scott Smile, “Beacon Hills knows things are back to the way they need to be.”

Derek enters his hotel room and it must be a testament to how much time he and Stiles now spend that he doesn’t even register his scent or heartbeat until he finds the human sprawled across his sofa. His head is dangling over one edge with his feet are propped up against the opposite arm rest. His hair is damp and he’s in a soft pair of flannel pants, muttering at the TV that’s at a low volume setting.

“Strawberry ice cream, but it can’t have the little bits in it.” Derek furrows his eyebrows a bit at that but dismisses it, too lazy to tune into what the TV is saying to understand the boy. He grunts as he walks past the sofa on his way to the bathroom to shower off the night out with the girls.

“Borrowed your shower ‘cause Scott and Isaac can’t keep it in their pants without Allison to keep them in check,” Stiles says, and Derek spots his nose twist up adorably as he says it.

“Better not have used all the hot water,” Derek grumbles, having to come back out to grab his pajamas.

“Nah, just most of it,” Stiles waves a hand over the back of the couch as if to shoo his alpha away and Derek growls, more for show than any real anger. Derek showers quickly, not even taking the time to note the water temperature, just scrubs down so he can go fall in bed.

“You’re still here,” Derek doesn’t frame it like a question, because that’ll just get him sassed for being obvious but he does just sort of stand there and look down at where Stiles is still sprawled across his couch like he owns the place.

“Are you really surprised?” Stiles snarks, but there’s no real heat behind it. With the age of the pack, also came a new level of comfort. They were no longer a team so much as they were family. Pack didn’t just work together, they loved and cared for one another. It took longer for that bond to grow with some, more so than others. Erica and Isaac fell into the bond easily, accepting it happily and Derek felt their bonds warm and bright almost as soon as he reclaimed his alpha power.

Scott, Jackson and Boyd took longer. Scott already had a family, small but there none the less and it took time to explain that the pack wouldn’t replace that only expand it. Boyd had never had a real family, never knew what that would look like and was hesitant to let that sort of new and seemingly impossible bond form. Jackson was stubborn and didn’t think he could belong anywhere. In the end their bonds were forged and Scott’s brought along Melissa and the start of Allison’s that she completed for herself, solidifying an alliance Derek could have never dreamed of. Lydia came with that, loyal to her best friend and boyfriend, wanting to do something worthwhile with the powers she was no longer seeing as a curse but a weapon.

Stiles took the longest. He was wary and hesitant, calculating and unsure and Derek didn’t want to push. He knew his wolf wanted the human, for more reasons than Derek would care to admit. He was loyal and resilient, strong in ways not just anyone could manage and intelligent to the point of intimidation.

Derek knows it’s partially his own fault, being so rash and harsh in the beginning, not handling the power well and making so many mistakes. He lost Stiles’ trust, made him more enemy than friend and made Stiles question him. But Derek was determined to have him in his pack, wanted him at his side, steady and spastic, his foil.

It took time, and effort that Derek had never thought he would put in, but here they were. Comfortable and at peace, pack.

“No, not really,” Derek sighs, resigning himself to a night on the couch. It was a usual occurrence at the Hale house, Stiles and him staying up late on the couch and being found there the next morning, slumped and sleepy with the TV still going.

He waits for Stiles to sit up (using core muscles he had been defining in pack training, like he wanted to kill Derek slowly) before he sat down and let Stiles settle once more. This was the usual format, ever since the time Stiles had his feet in Derek’s lap and managed to kick him in the soft spot more than once in an hour. Supernatural healing didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“The park, beaches have sand and he hates that,” Stiles mutters once his focus is back on the TV.

“What are you watching?” Derek asks, looking at the screen and seeing what looks like a game show of sorts with three couples in booths.

“Spouse House Trivia,” Stiles says, focus still on the screen, “Dahlias, the pinky-orange ones.”

“What.”

“It’s a show about couples who are tested on their knowledge of each other. The winner gets a vacation to the Caribbean and a check for $2,000,” Stiles explains. “This one couple sucks, they haven’t gotten an answer right this entire game,” Stiles says, gesturing a bit wildly causing Derek to grab his hand and press it down before he hurts himself or Derek.

“Huh,” Derek listens for the next question. The host reads off a card - What is their favorite toy growing up? “You liked that stuffed octopus monstrosity that’s still in your closet at your Dad’s,” Derk directs the answer at Stiles. Derek remembers when he first found Senior Wiggles, a patchwork thing with a few tentacles barely attached and the creepiest button eyes Derek had ever had the displeasure to meet. He had been helping Stiles stuff a bag with clothes because he was running behind to leave for a pack camping trip when he propelled himself backwards and nearly onto his ass in shock. The thing was freaky, okay?

“Hey, Senior Wiggles is a cool toy!” Stiles pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t try to refute him when the host brings up the next question - allergies.

“You’re allergic to that one food coloring, right? Like, blue number two or something.” Stiles nods his assent before adding his own answer.

“And you’re not allergic to anything ‘cause you’re a werewolf. Still think that’s unfair.”

“You could always sprout fangs and fur every full moon with me,” Derek says offhandedly not even looking down but knowing Stiles is making that face he does whenever it’s suggested he take the bite. Derek hasn’t seriously offered in years, not since the first time when he approached Stiles formally and was politely declined. “And you can’t say that on TV.”

“Like we would ever actually- that’s a great idea!” Stiles sits bolt upright, only just missing Derek. Is nose might have been cracked if he didn’t know the boy so well or had supernatural reflexes.

“What.”

“What have we talked about question marks, Der?” Stiles looks at him over his shoulder like a child who’s made a social error, “Come on, repeat it with me, question marks are valid and -”

“Stiles,” Derek growls, flashing his eyes. Stiles just sighs and drops back into Derek’s lap with a thump that is a little too close to his soft bits and based on the smirk across Stiles’ face, he knows it.

“Yes, my sugarblossom?”

“No,”

“What? I have to practice my pet names, snugglebottom. How else will we convince people we’re really married?” Stiles blinks, eyes wide and innocent.

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Derek shoves a hand through his hair, dropping his head back against the edge of the couch.

“Think about, honeybun, we know each other better than at least two of those couples think they know each other. We could smoke ‘em, grab the cash and cruise and run! It’s brilliant.” Stiles crosses his arms again, but this time he looks satisfied with himself like he just laid down a winning hand in poker.

“No,” Derek stands without so much as trying to warn Stiles, getting the second indignant squawk of the day. (The first was earlier that afternoon when Derek threw Stiles into the pool on the roof of the building. It was a sounds that Derek found very satisfying when he managed to elicit it from the boy. Although there are some noises Derek would like better-)

“But, Derek!” Stiles scrambles to stand up, following him to the bathroom where Derek is going to brush his teeth.

“But nothing,” Derek says around a mouthful of foam, “We aren’t married, Stiles.” Derek thinks that’s the end of it, but he really should know better than that by now. Stiles slides up against the bathroom counter, sly smile growing and that mischievous glint in his eye that make sane men run (but they say love makes you crazy).

“We’re in the land of rash decision making, Der-Bear, let’s get hitched.” Derek spits out his toothpaste sooner than he would normally just to avoid sustaining eye contact with Stiles any longer. He knows what he’s doing, he’s making that face that he sat down with Scott to teach him, getting random little tips and commentary from Isaac on the side. It was a killer and they both knew it rarely failed.

Derk heaves a mighty sigh, eyes closed as he comes back up from the sink, rubbing slightly damp hands through his hair. He moves out of the bathroom, opening his eyes once he’s fairly sure he’s past Stiles and heads to his bed across the room. He drops himself on to the bed, mashing his face into the pillow that Stiles snagged from home because he knew how much the hotel smells bothered him. When he turns his head and opens his eyes, unsurprised to find Stiles crouched next to the bed with the pleading eyes on full force.

“Fine, set it up,” he relents, not even finished with the short sentence when Stiles lets out a whoop of victory. He’s quickly tackled as Stiles leaps up and collapses over the top of him, wiggling until he’s comfortably draped over most of Derek’s back.

“You won’t regret it, big guy.” Derek can hear the smile in his voice and can’t find it in him to regret his decision. “We’re going to be the best married couple ever.”

“Yeah, sure.” He falls asleep like that, Stiles’ warm weight pressing him gently into the mattress and the quiet hum of the TV and Stiles’ muttered answers as the game show continues.

***  
“And you guys really wanna get married?” The man behind the counter looks skeptically, but Derek isn’t sure that’s fair considering he’s in a hawaiian shirt and with a pair of gaudy flamingo shaped sunglasses pushed back into his slicked hair.

“Yes, that’s legal now,” Stiles smiles brightly, but it’s with that sharp look that almost always works at keeping the betas from crossing him. A human has to stand their ground somehow.

“Oh, uh, sorry, of course it is. As it should be, really,” the man scrambles a bit at his desk, grabbing paperwork and snatching Stiles’ credit card off the counter. Derek stares down at the counter for a moment before looking at Stiles, it quickly morphs into a glare.

“That was supposed to be my card,” Derek points out, taking his card from Stiles’ hand. The little shit had switched them out without him noticing.

“Pay me back when we’re $2,000 richer.” The kid is smiling having managed to slip one past his alpha.

“You’re a menace,” Derek growls.

“Aw, now you’re just repeating my dad,” Stiles pouts but Derek knows there’s not an ounce of regret in his bones, “I knew you’ve been hanging out with him while I was gone.” Stiles is talking about when he went to visit one of his cousins who had come out from Poland and he had spent all of the month with him and showing him around. Derek did spend a lot of time with the Sheriff.

“It’s worth repeating.”

“Alright, so you can have the ceremony and paper work for $349, or for an upgrade of $150 you can have a reception, too.” The man behind the counter, Dale his name tag reads, hands over some papers to look at depicting their options.

“Oooh, Derek, we can have Elvis officiate, I didn’t think that was a real thing!” Stiles claps a bit in glee.

“No, Stiles,” Derek presses in close to look over Stiles’ shoulder and at the paperwork. If he happens to take an extra whiff or two of that cinnamon-y scent that has evolved to mean home, well, no one will know but him. And maybe Dale who is looking at him strangely, he lifts a lip in a small snarl to make him cower back into submission and ducking his gaze.

“Awww, but Der,” Stiles whines, turning his face, breathing against his cheek.

“No, if we have to do this we’re doing it right,” Derek harrumphs. Stiles’ face drops, eyes widening with his jaw slack for a moment before his smile grows and his cheeks redden by a shade or two.

“Alright,” Stiles nods before looking up at Dale, “Give me the classiest ass wedding you got.”

***  
“Stiles you’re being ridiculous,” Derek sighs, slumping a bit against the wall he had been leaning on for the past thirty minutes. Stiles was in the changing room, grumbling with the shuffling of fabric and Derek was growing impatient.

“I have to look good, it’s my wedding day, jackass,” Stiles snarks from the other side of the door. Derek listened and watched Stiles’ feet turn this way and that before he huffs and shucks off the thousandth shirt.

“Just pick something already, you’ll look fine,” Derek tries using his soothing voice, the one he uses on a sleepy Erica and Isaac when he’s sniffles during sad movies.

“Easy for you to say, Adonis,” Stiles says, scoffing as Derek dips his head and blushes. As much as he’s complaining, his chest aches with a warmth that comes from remembering something lost. He thinks of Laura, dragging him around town, tugging him from store to store while they visited every mall and outlet center greater Beacon County had to offer.

“Come on, Stiles, just find one that you like and we can get married already.” Derek is holding his breath while he listens as a few hangers clink around and the soft rustle of fabric falling over skin, The door opens and Stiles emerges. The button up is simple and yet devastating all at once. It’s a creamy blue, soft and reminds Derek of something floral, but it hugs Stiles’ shoulder displaying his impressive frame. He looks lovely.

“You look lovely,” Derek’s mouth says without his mind’s consent making the blush return, But he doesn’t take it back, can’t find enough embarrassment in himself to tear away the truth. Stiles’ cheeks flare a bit in response and he smiles.

“Wedding worthy?” He asks, still sounding a bit unsure.

“More than,” Derek assures. That is also something very new, something that has only recently evolved. Derek was trying to better with his words, allowing himself to say what he means, give honest compliments in place of sarcastic criticism and letting praise flow freely. It was something that Stiles had told him in a very firm talking too about making a happy pack.

“You don’t look like a trainwreck either,” Stiles says, smile on his face as Derek rolls his eyes.

“Ready?”

“For dinner? The apocalypse?” He snags Derek’s arm and threads it through his own as they head out and follow the little laminated signs to the Chapel Room. “Oh! You meant for the wedding?”

“Why don’t I rip out your throat?” Derek sighs in faux-exasperation.

“You’d miss out on all my amazing commentary, obviously.”

“Eh, Erica’s pretty sassy. And you’ve practically been giving Isaac lessons in sarcasm.” Stiles smacks a hand to his chest and his mouth gapes in mock offense.

“How dare you suggest I could be so easily replaced! I am one in a million,” Stiles scoffs.

“There’s seven billion people in the world, you’re telling me there’s seven thousand more of you?”

“I would smack you for how offensive you’re being but you got me all hot and bothered with how quickly you did that math in your head,” Stiles turns to him as they make it to the Chapel doors and smiles that lopsided grin that always makes Derek want to lean in and kiss the lifted half.

“Save it for the honeymoon.” And with that Derek’s pushing open the doors and leading Stiles inside. They had previously agreed they would just walk down the aisle together (“Gender roles are dumb, Derek.”) but it wasn’t like there was anyone here to impress.

The ceremony is simple, just the man from earlier - Dale - reading off some perfunctory script and asking them to say a few vows before announcing them wed in front of another employee to stand as witness. It was quick and a little lame and ridiculous but the entire time Derk held Stiles’ warm hands in his own at that tacky alter he wished it were real. Maybe not that today was real, but that the hope for this to be real was somewhere in their future.

“You may now kiss the, uh, yeah, you may now kiss.” Dale stumbles a bit before gesturing for them to just do it already. Derek watches as Stiles sniggers at Dale’s discomfort before turning back to look at him. His eyes are bright and happy and maybe he can just pretend for a little while that this is real. He leans in and presses his lips to Stiles’, short and sweet, barely moving his lips before pulling back lest he never move again.

“Introducing Mr. and Mr. Stilinski-Hale,” Dale announces to the crowd of no one in the room.

“I thought you wanted just Stilinski?” Derek asks, looking at Stiles a bit in wonder. They had discussed it sparingly beforehand, the name they would take and Derek just let Stiles decide without much thought, but he had been certain that was what was going to happen. Stiles shrugs.

“Yeah, the kids are gonna have a hell of a time spelling it, but I’m yours as much as you are mine, right?” Stiles shrugs again, looking down at his dress shoes and Derek can tell he’s trying to make a joke of it but something feels a tad bit deeper than what Stiles seems to want to be letting on.

“Of course.” Derek can’t help his smile. It may not be real, but his loves this idiot through and through.

***  
“Congratulations!” The waitress smiles brightly, “We have a newlywed special if you want to try that.”

“Absolutely,” Stiles grins back, pressed right up against Derek’s side, leaning his head on his shoulder and all around just chumming it up for the woman.

“Great, I’ll be back with your drinks.” Once she’s out of earshot, Derek turns to Stiles, practically pressing the words into the boy’s hair.

“What are you doing, Stiles?” Stiles is laughing, trying to stifle the laughter in Derek’s shoulder.

“Just enjoying the honeymoon, Der-Bear.” Stiles sighs when the giggles finally subside. He smells like sunshine. The kind of warm that comes from the sunny spot on the bed that leaves you just on the verge of too warm and completely at ease. Derek doesn’t think he stands a chance against it.

***  
It should be weird when they get back to Beacon Hills. It should be something that hangs over them like a weird little cloud of awkward that threatens uncomfortable smiles and the conversation of what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But . . . it really isn’t.

They come home and Stiles is over at the loft as always, complaining about cats in trees and old ladies that abuse his role as a deputy and Derek has dinner with the Sheriff on his nights off, talking about baseball and the drop in crime recently and what to grill for the next pack night. Life continues and Stiles at him every once in awhile all conspiratorial and sly as he pats his chest, hand over where the cheesy rings they bought at the chapel hangs loosely around a chain. Derek just smiles and ducks his head, hiding the laugh that threatens to bubble up.

Derek was sure that Stiles would come to him, looking antsy and maybe a bit guilty to tell him it was a bad idea and that it was dumb to do. He was so sure he could practically hear Stiles tell him about how he shouldn’t indulge him in the crazy schemes anymore. Okay, that was pretty out of character, but it would follow those lines, he was sure of it and the first week being home was the worst because he didn’t see Stiles once because of weird shifts he took on at the station.

It was torture having to wait for a time when Stiles would actually have a chance to call the plans off and stew in his own thoughts. Imagining scenario after scenario of Stiles looking uncomfortable and pained while he explained to Derek that he didn’t want this, wanted to call it off. It took Derek several days to realize that none of these situations involved calling the wedding fake or not real which he wasn’t really willing to look into. (Avoid the problem ‘til it goes away, yeah?)

But the conversation never came. Just Stiles, a whirlwind of noise and warm scent after a week of nothing, collapsing onto the living room couch like he owned it and telling Derek about how his week had been. It was so natural and easy that Derek didn’t even think to hide the ring he had had on for the last week, twisted this way and that with nerves. He heard Stiles fumble over his words when he spotted it, tensed as he prepared for the ribbing of his life, but it never came. The boy smiled and continued his tale of Mrs. Abernathy’s cat.

“Derek, what’s my favorite holiday?” They had been sitting in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet after a hectic week.

“Halloween,” Derek answers, without opening his eyes from where he’s relaxed into the couch. Stiles hums in happy agreement.

“Do you know why?”

“I don’t.” They hadn’t ever really discussed, only mentioned in passing, never going much farther than the surface and suddenly Derek wants to know. He wants to understand this strange human in every way he can manage and that should be scary, but Derek’s learning that “should” doesn’t mean a whole lot in the long run.

“It was my mom’s favorite holiday,” his voice catches, just a small hitch, but he pushes on and Derek opens one eye to watch him. He looks calm if in that sad sort of reminiscence, and he closes his eyes to leave Stiles to his memories as he talks about them. “She always made a big deal of choosing costumes and making them cooler by adding your own stuff and we used to have our own little party. We’d watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and bake the pumpkin seeds from our jack-o=lanterns. It was awesome.” The silence hangs for a moment before Stiles clears his throat, “What about you, big guy?”

“I always liked the harvest moon celebration.” Stiles makes a noise of question but it isn’t really necessary because Derek wants to tell Stiles about his life as much as he wants to hear about Stiles’. “Our family would get together and watch the moon rise and drink cider and make smores. It wasn’t an actual holiday but my mom loved the excuse to get the family together and we made a celebration out of it. It’s usually in September, but sometimes it’s in October.”

The weeks pass like that - long days spent being adults and doing their own thing, but every couple of days Derek was sure to find Stiles sprawled across his couch, ready to share more and more about his favorites or important things to him. Every time Stiles came with new questions, things like -

If you could meet any famous person in the history who would it be?

What does your perfect day look like?

If you could choose any name besides your own, what name would you give yourself?

And everything they can come up with while they sit for hours just talking. Derek has never been a talker, not even before the fire, but there’s something about Stiles that makes him want to keep talking. Something about the eager expression, the noises of affirmation and that damn smile that turns Derek in the the babbling idiot he used to see Stiles as. It’s freeing in a way Derek never considered, to let all of the information flow out of you.

“What makes you feel most loved?” Stiles asks the question quietly, almost timid and it startles Derek. He has to ask for it to be repeated because he thinks maybe he heard wrong and Stiles is asking something terrible. But when Stiles repeats it he won’t look him in the eye and there’s a blush creeping up his neck and blooming across the tops of cheeks.

Derek sits to contemplate that, really thinks his answer over before smiling and enjoying the heady feeling of love.

“No one really takes the time to get to know me,” Derek smiles down at his hands, clasped where his elbows rest on his knees. “I’m kinda hard to talk to, I’m, uh, surly according to reputable sources.” That gets a huff of laughter from Stiles and Derek grins. “I’m quiet and not exactly forthcoming, I don’t think many people are willing to really understand me. Laura used to shout at me because I would never give her a straight answer about what my favorite anything was because I didn’t want to inconvenience people. I didn’t care what went on the pizza because it wasn’t like I was allergic to anything so I’d eat it, why bother people with what I preferred?”

Stiles sits up at that, mouth open and ready to argue and that’s it, right there. He knows he’s so far gone on this boy that he should have known before just now but that okay, because he knows now. Derek holds up a hand, unwilling to get side tracked with one of Stiles’ oldest arguments since becoming pack.

“But there was something fascinating about people who are willing to put up with me being so evasive about my opinions and who were willing to stick it out and dig up the truth. I was never trying to play coy or anything like that but it always kind of proved to me who loved me. So, that’s what makes me feel loved.” Derek stares at Stiles, he’s looking up at him, eyes wide and sparkling like he’s some kind of disney princess (Bambi, he can hear Erica’s affectionate scoff). But the look quickly shuts down, it’s like the shutters are drawn and Stiles’ face goes carefully blank.

“That was a great speech, but you could have just told me you knew,” Stiles says, voice brittle and scratchy. “Better than making me think-” Stiles cuts himself off with a bitter sound, pushing up and walking away from the living room before Derek can even comprehend what’s going on.

“Stiles-”

“No, I should have known that I’m that stupidly obvious, that’s on me. But doing this? Leading me on and making me think- no, that’s a dick move, Hale.” Derek stands and follows Stiles to where he’s shrugging his deputy’s jacket and shoving his feet into regulation shoes.

“I don’t understand, what’s going on?” Derek steps in front of the front door, earning himself a withering glare from Stiles. But the anger is good, anything is better than the utterly dead look in his eyes from moments before.

“You’re really gonna make me say it? ‘Cuz that’s just cruel.” Stiles sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and looking at him through his fingers.

“Yes, you’re going to have to be very clear because I have no idea what’s going on.” Derek says slowly, not sure how to make it anymore clear that nothing Stiles is saying is making any sense. Stiles looks so sad and Derek needs to know what he did so he can fix it, wipe that horrible look off his face and never let it come back.

“I am in love with you and you’ve been basically making fun of me by continuing this sham of a marriage and that whole speech you just made was one big bitch slap of a wake up call and I didn’t think you were cruel, Derek, but I’ve never had the best taste in potential partners.”

“You love me?” Derek’s mind has short circuited, frozen in the moment of time where Stiles Stilinski has told him he loves him, Derek Hale.

“I’m kinda regretting it, you jackass.” Stiles’ shoulders are slumped and that simply won’t do but he’s upset because, oh, he thinks Derek doesn’t love him back. That is definitely not okay. Derek steps forward and grabs Stiles by the shoulders and waits a few moments for Stiles to look up at him. He looks so lost, confused and hurt and Derek doesn’t want to see that anymore. He wants smiles and warm scents of sunshine and cinnamon.

“Do you trust me?”

“You’re not Aladin.”

“Don’t deflect.”

“I wouldn’t have to if I didn’t feel so defensive.” Stiles shrugs, feeling almost like he wants to wiggle out of Derek’s hold, but he just tightens his grip, strong and sure.

“You shouldn’t have to feel that way around me, and I don’t know how to explain that so I need you to trust me.” Derek looks at him, holds the eye contact as the smile spreads across his face, undeterred by the lack of positive response from Stiles, secure in his next move.

“I trust you, haven’t always, but I do now.” Stiles explains softly. That’s all Derek needs, leans in and presses his lips to Stiles’. He feels the way the plush lower lip trembles under his but it only makes him press more solidly, moving suredly and lovingly to convey everything he can’t quite put into words.

Stiles doesn’t move at first, stock still and stiff, but Derek can’t give up now. So, he keeps pressing, daring to carefully move his lips. Just careful little adjustments to wedge Stiles’ lips more firmly between his own wanting to really experience just how right they feel pressed together. It’s like all the fight drains out of Stiles in an instant. There are arms around his neck. Long fingers in his hair and the tip of a curious tongue prodding at the seam of his lips.

Derek carefully returns the touch - hands slide down to a narrow waist and Stiles’ sweet gasp when Derek’s tongue touches his own. Their mouths open at the same time, as if commanded and it all gets so much wetter, more heated as the butterflies in Stiles’ gut start a cage match.

“I fucking knew it!” Isaac shouts from the doorway making the pair jump apart. Behind him is the rest of the pack, all peering over his shoulders or around him like they’re hiding from the sight. It would be funny if Stiles wasn’t so damn confused.

“What?”

“Cough it up, Scott, you said they were just dating.” Isaac turns to the wolf in question with an outstretched hand, ignoring Stiles’ question.

“Nuh uh, Lahey, you said they eloped. You don’t win either.” Lydia pipes up, flicking the beta on the forehead.

“Hey! You said they were just hooking up so you aren’t winning either!” The pack suddenly goes into motion, all stumbling in and taking seats in the living room while Derek and Stiles look on in continued confusion.

“Would someone tell us what’s going on?” Derek growls, rubbing his forehead like he had a headache coming on.

“He’s had a ring on his finger since Vegas!”

“But Stiles doesn’t,” Erica pipes up as she walks past them, patting their shoulders as she enters the kitchen.

“He’s had a ring on a necklace since Vegas,” Scott informs them, shrugging off Stiles’ look of betrayal.

“They were betting on our love life!” Stiles squawks to Derek making the man sigh.

“Yep, that they were, Stiles.”

“Can we go upstairs and make out?” Stiles looks at Derek as he peeks out from his fingers, still flushed from their first kiss, lips wet and invitingly parted.

“Gross, they’re honey mooning.” Stiles smiles into the kiss as he flips them off over Derek’s warm shoulder.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finally here! Thank you for your patience and question suggestions! This was kind of a mess for a while so it took me longer than I intended but I made it and I hope you love it as much as you did the last chapter :)

“Derek!” Derek drops the socks he suspects are a match on to the bed and dashes out of the room to where he hears Stiles in the kitchen. His heart rate is elevated and off tempo, there’s shock and something else swirling in his scent but a distinct lack of fear and he doesn’t know what could have happened to cause it.

 

“What? What happened?” He slides into the kitchen to find Stiles at the breakfast bar, holding a letter, the envelope it must have come in fluttering from his other hand and to the ground. Derek approaches slowly, looking around the kitchen as if on instinct to check the door and windows for danger. 

 

“They want us,” Stiles says, disbelief coloring his soft voice. Derek can feel his anxiety ramp up with the lack of explanation, already planning for the worst and going over what it might be. They had been trying to reach out to the Hales’ old allies, looking to reestablish ties and plant their roots as a new pack and old friends all at once. They hadn’t all gone smoothly and Derek is acutely aware of the likelihood of challenges that could crop up. 

 

“Stiles, I almost never get to say this, but I need you to use your words.” Derek is next to his boyfriend now. They decided calling their Vegas marriage an actual marriage was moving too fast for comfort for both of them and, other than keeping the rings, don’t talk about it much. He lifts a hand and settles it on his shoulder, turning him slowly to face him. He’s verifiable surprised to see Stiles’ grin.

 

“They want us on the show!” Stiles bounces on his heels, eyes wide and bright and Derek can feel the tension leave him in a rush, leaving all the space he needs for utter exasperation. 

 

“Damnit, Stiles, you can’t scare me like that.” He growls as Stiles’ grin gets wider, pushes past him to get to the fridge and grab a beer, he’s earned it. 

 

“Aw, honeybunch, were you worried for me?” He singsongs, wrapping arms around his waist from behind and pushing his bony little nose into Derek’s shoulder. Derek just scoffs and moves about getting dinner ready with a leech around his waist, not quite dragging him down but the weight ever present on his back. “Well, save all that tender love and affection for the cameras, sweetcheeks,” that one is accentuated with a quick smack on Derek’s ass making him sigh and Stiles snort, “We have to be in Hollywood in three weeks.”

 

“Three weeks? That’s all the notice they give you?” Derek asks, pulling spaghetti noodles out of the cabinet, making sure there’s enough. 

 

“Well, the letter says filming only takes a day or two. I’ll find us a route and hotel after dinner,” Stiles says as he scours the pantry for sauce. He pulls out alfredo sauce making Derek roll his eyes, the red sauce versus white sauce argument still very fresh. But his boyfriend is quick to also pull out the baguette he bought earlier and Derek knows he’s making his favorite garlic bread. 

 

“Alright. We’re taking the Camar-”

 

“We can’t just leave Roscoe!”

 

“We’ll leave him in a junkyard if you try taking him all the way to Hollywood.” Derek tells him, pulling out his stern, no nonsense look. It never works, on Stiles or the betas, but he has to try. 

 

“Fine, but I get to drive.”

 

Dinner is promptly forgotten in the ensuing argument and following make-out session. 

 

***

 

“But Derek, I have to  _ peeee _ .” Stiles whines from the passenger seat, turned towards the werewolf with big pleading eyes and a death grip on his forearm. 

 

“Then you should have peed at the gas stop in Madera,” Derek growls, but it softens to a sigh of fond exasperation far too soon. It was something he had noticed when they finally made that leap into a relationship. Without shield of aggression to avoid confronting his feelings like some crushingly cliche film noir character, there was this achingly soft part of him that he couldn’t ignore any longer. The growls easily faded to happy, fond sighs and rolled eyes were quickly paired with smiles and Derek couldn’t get enough. He’s coming to realize it’s been far too long since he’s been this happy.

 

“I didn’t have to go twenty minutes ago.” Derek is trying his damnedest to ignore those eyes, knows he won’t survive the puppy eyes because no one ever can. What eventually breaks his resolve is the barest hint of motion from beside him. He turns and finds Stiles smiling, trying to hold back small bouts of laughter, the little shit. “What?”

 

“I just-” Stiles looks up at him, eyes bright with laughter and joy and Derek really needs to concentrate on driving but he can’t help but be so distracted by it all. “I just really care about you, Derek Hale.” Stiles adds a flourish of his hands, mostly just flailing around a bit but it makes Derek smile in return and that, in turn, makes Stiles smile like he’s won something special,

 

***

 

“Mr. and Mr. Stilinski-Hale.” Derek tells the receptionist once they reach the check in counter for their hotel. The woman turns to her computer with a blush and Derek has a feeling it’s not just his charming smile but the possessive way Stiles wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him close. He looks over and sees Stiles’ self-satisfied smirk and rolls his eyes. 

 

“Have a nice stay,” the woman tells them as they pick up their bags and the key to their room as she slides it across the counter.

 

“Oh, we will,” Stiles instantly replies with a wink. Derek’s stomach flips with the implications as they walk to the elevators and the situation only persists as Stiles brings his free hand back around Derek’s waist and settles it on his hip. He feels the young man as he presses against him closely in the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully shut before he’s pressing lips and light teeth to the curve between his shoulder and neck. 

 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the wolf?” Derek mutters around a sigh when he feels the light tug of pressure from Stiles worrying a mark there. 

 

“What? Does it go to your wolfy brain when I get jealous?” They break apart as the doors reopen and walk to their room. Derek doesn’t let Stiles make it even half way in before he’s tugging the bags from his hands and yanking him close. It’s only been a couple of weeks since this all started, just two and a half months of being married, and Derek knows he’ll never get tired of it. 

 

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Derek growls, only waiting until Stiles has actually dropped his bag before knocking him onto the bed. 

 

“Aw, is that the sound of my precious bottom complaining? You were begging for it last night,” Stiles purrs from where he’s pinned to the bed. Derek just growls louder, dipping down to nip at his boyfriend-husband’s neck because he knows he walked into that one. Before they can get any farther thought, a phone rings in one of their bags. With a heaving sigh Derek relinquishes his grip on Stiles’ shoulders to go retrieve it and answer with a mildly annoyed ‘hello’.

 

“Hi, this is Sharyl from studio eleven. This is your reminder call that you and your husband will be needed in just about an hour.” Derek’s heart flips at the mention of Stiles as his husband and his voice softens as he responds.

 

“Uh, yeah, yes. We’ll be there.”

 

“Alright, see you soon.” Derek hangs up and whips around when Stiles coos -

 

“Aww, Der, you’re blushing!”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are toooo,” Stiles sings, shrieking in laughter when Derek pounces once more. 

 

***

 

“Oh, this is just a disaster, isn’t it,” the woman who greeted them reaches out and attempts to fix Stiles’ mop of hair. She’s in her late fifties, with fine lines around her soft eyes and a peppy attitude. What neither of them is willing to say is that Stiles’ hair had looked just fine twenty minutes ago until he had dragged Derek into the bathroom to ravage his mouth. Derek couldn’t help but run his fingers through the strands until they looked like they got into a fight with a particularly vicious cat.

 

“I was going for the fresh out of bed, tousled look?” Stiles offers. The woman merely tsks him. 

 

“Well, that just won’t do, Come on, follow me, we have to get you to hair and makeup.”

 

“I guess you can just go find a seat?” Stiles says with a shrug as Sharyl slowly pulls him away. 

 

“Oh no, pretty boy comes too. Just because he has a perfect complexion and a chiseled jaw does not mean stage lights will agree with him.” Sharyl says, coming back to grab Derek by the wrist as well. 

 

***

 

The stage is painfully bright, the lights pouring down on them in streams of a thousand suns concentrated onto just your eyes.

 

They walk up the steps and over to their chairs, Stiles is quickly fascinated by the little podiums they’ll be sitting at. The podiums look a lot like Jeopardy, with little screens on the front and what looks like tablets and styluses for the contestants to write on. They’re an obnoxious shade of pink with hearts and roses lining the tops. The podiums come in three sets of twos, each pair a few feet away from its partner. 

 

“Look, it’s the competition!” Stiles gets giddy watching the other two couples make their way up. There’s a young couple, much like he and Stiles, holding hands and smiling brightly at one another. The woman of the pair looks around, spots them and smirks like she has this in the bag and it makes Derek’s wolf hackles rise. He wants to squash them to the ground. Next is an elderly couple. The two women smile and talk to the host as they walk, also hand in hand. Derek is confused at first because this is a  _ newlywed _ game but he and Stiles seems to realize at the same time. 

 

“Oh, Der, that’s so sweet.” Stiles sighs softly. Derek pecks his temple in acknowledgement, realizing that the women must be officially newlyweds with the laws so freshly passed. 

 

“Alright, ladies and gents, my name is Alex and here’s the rules.” The host is a spry young man who reminds Derek of Peter when he was younger, a glint in his eye like he always knows something you don’t. “I will be asking the questions to each pair one at a time in the first round to see which couple is knocked out first. Then the remaining two pairs move on to buzzer style to see who wins the game. Sound good?” Every nods and agrees. 

 

“Lights,” Alex spins around at the sound of the director’s voice, smile almost as blinding as the lights that come up, “Camera, action!” Stiles snorts next to him muttering something about being cheesier than cheddar. 

 

“Hello and welcome to Spouse House Trivia! I’m your host Alex and it is time to meet tonight’s couples!” The next few minutes are spent having the cameras move in close to get the introductions of each couple. Stiles and Derek are the last pair to talked to and before they come Derek leans in close to Stiles’ ear and whispers lowly -

 

“Behave.” He feels Stiles shudder and his wolf preens at such a responsive mate. 

 

“Or what, big guy?” Derek doesn’t have the chance to respond before Alex and the camera are one them. 

 

“And finally we have Derek and Stiles Stilinski-Hale from Beacon Hills California. How are you guys?”

 

“Sore and exhausted, Alex, but happy to be here.” Stiles smile is more of a leer as he looks up at Derek and snuggles in close. Derek’s ears burn and he lets an inaudible growl rumble through his chest so Stiles can feel it. He is  _ so  _ getting it tonight. Alex, the poor man, blushes a deep scarlet before coughing and moving on without further comment. Stiles snickers once they’re out of earshot mutter about it being worth it. 

 

“And those are the rules,” Alex finishes his spiel for the in house audience and the later TV viewers. “Lovebirds, are you ready?” The audience cheers and the game begins. 

 

It really is all the questions he and Stiles had been asking in the weeks following their marriage. Favorites of this and that and childhood memories. How did we meet, propose and little facts that spouses are apparently expected to know. It doesn’t surprise Derek when they end up being one of the pairs to move on. They beat the young couple by a landslide of nine questions and tailed the the elderly women by just three. 

 

“Der, we’re moving on!” Stiles whooped, clearly excited, even without the emotion being scented in the air. Derek just holds the boy close and relishes in the moment of joy and laughs as Stiles practically vibrates in his arms. 

 

It takes the crew almost no time at all to reset the stage and bring the set together for the knockout round. They’re quickly directed to their side of the stage to face of Lynn and Rachel, the elderly wives. They were vicious in the last round, happily rubbing it in with wrinkling smirks when they would gain a point, Stiles laughing nearly every time because he’s always been a sucker for people like that. 

 

“Knock out rounds will be quick, these questions will be a bit harder to answer though and answers will come from the questionnaire we had you fill out before coming on stage.” Derek remembers, it was a paper that had been shoved at him while they applied his make-up, asking this or that and everything in between. He remembers one question in particular, one that made his heart stop for a moment and -

 

“We’ve got this, Der-Bear.” Stiles smiles up at him, scent doing all kinds of nice things to settle his nerves. There was no guarantee that they would all of the questions on the paper. Maybe it wouldn’t even come up. 

 

“Are you ready, lovebirds?” Alex asks, the lights intense and the audienced hushed. “Let’s get started! The rules are, you have to hit the buzzer and if you’re the first you have ten seconds to give as in depth or accurate an answer before the question is given to the other couple.” The lights dramatically flare but Derek pays it no mind, just slips his hands into Stiles and prepares himself. 

 

“And the first question is -  _ what’s their favorite meal on a bad day? _ ” 

 

Derek didn’t know bony hands could move that quick but before he can even fully process the question the buzzer is sounding and the spotlight lands on Lynn. 

 

“Grilled cheese with a sprinkle of paprika like her mother used to make.” 

 

“That’s correct! Next question -  _ where has their best vacation been and why? _ ” This time it’s Stiles who hits the buzzer first and Derek thinks game shows may be the kryptonite to his supernatural reflexes. 

 

“He went to Yosemite when he was twelve and cried when he saw a baby deer.” Stiles sounds far too excited to disclose that information and Derek sighs, closing his eyes when Alex announces it as correct. 

 

“ _ What’s their favorite smell? _ This is prior to meeting you, spouse!” Alex looks gleeful as each couple struggles for a moment before Derek  _ finally  _ gets his chance to answer. “Derek?”

 

“He loved his mom’s perfume and rain on cold days.” Derek remembers Stiles telling him that one lazy Sunday when he flopped against his lap on the couch and mumbled the words into his lower stomach. Derek reminiscences how his stomach flopped and his ears burned before the arousal settled and he realized what Stiles was doing. 

 

“That’s correct!”

 

The questions continue, some of them being ones Derek remembers from his questionnaire and other that must have been on Stiles’ to answer. They seem to zip past -

 

_ What is his most embarrassing memory?  _

He went to the fair to impress a girl (strawberry blonde goddess, Derek!) and thought winning the hot dog eating contest would do it. He went on a ride and puked on her Jimmy Choo heels.

 

_ What’s the most embarrassing song he knows all the words too? _

Pat Benatar, Love Is a Battlefield (said with a smirk as Derek blushes as Lynn and Rachel laugh and start singing without a care in the world).

 

_ What's your tried and true method for snapping your partner out of a bad mood? _

Cuddling him  so they can nap and reset their heads. (Nobody needs to know that Derek is a wolf when he does it.)

 

_ What do you expect from your partner on Valentine's Day? _

Ho, boy, I expect chocolate and rose petals. I am a classy lady who deserves to be treated right!

 

_ What supernatural  creature would you spouse be? _

Stiles nearly breaks his hand slapping the buzzer this round. Derek’s not kidding, he’s pretty sure he heard a pop or something. 

 

_ What’s worse? Your partner’s bark, or their bite? _

 

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek hisses, watching his boyfriend-husband curl as far into himself as the loveseat desk thing their sitting on will let him. He’s practically crying, doing the really concerning silent laugh thing with gasping breath and flapping his hands like a seal. 

 

“ _ But Derek _ ,” Stiles gasps, eyes shining with mirth and tears. 

 

“Is he alright?” Alex asks, pressing his earpiece and listening to whoever’s tiny voice is on the other end. “We’ll have to reshoot the question, should we get him some water?”

 

“Yes, that would be nice,” Derek sighs, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice as he watches Stiles take deep breaths to calm himself down. The giggles still shake his body as Alex leaves to fetch some water. 

 

“You two are just the cutest, aren’t you?” Rachel and Lynn are standing in front of their couch, hand in hand. They’re smiling and watching them with fondness, grandmotherly and kind. 

 

“He’s a spazz with a bad sense of humor,” Derek replies sharing an exasperated look with Lynn. 

 

“Oh don’t I know what that’s like!” Lynn exclaims, “Rachel thinks watching the New Housewives of New Jersey is funny.”

 

“I do, too!” Stiles says, sitting up, his cheeks flushed brilliantly. 

 

“Martha is a total bitch but has  _ no brain _ .”

 

“I know, right?” Rachel  moves closer to Stiles while Derek and Lynn stare at their spouse in utter confusion.   
  


“How long have you been together?” Lynn asks as they watch Rachel and Stiles flail and talk excitedly, kindred spirits. 

 

“Four months.” Lynn makes a noise of surprise and waits for Derek to continue. “It was Vegas and we just didn’t want to divorce,” Derek says with a shrug. 

 

“Lynn and I were best friends, too.” Lynn nods before turning to look Derek in the eye, “Keep him, not everyone finds the person who looks at them like they’ve found religion.” 

 

“Alright, everybody, let’s finish this up, shall we?” Alex hands Stiles a water and they wait a few more moments before re-taping the last question. The next few rounds are easy things, simpler than the ones before and Derek thinks it’s building up to something.

 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a tie!” Derek looks at the scores and notes the matching 15 on the screen. “And we know what that means - tie breaker!” The audience cheers and the lights do something obnoxious and dramatic. “The partner who has answered the least amount of questions with be given 15 seconds to answer the question after their partner has had the chance to write out an answer in our back room. There will be a coin toss to find who goes first. Who ever has the closest answer wins!”

 

“Are you ready, big guy?” Stiles leans in to whisper. 

 

“Always,” Derek tells him.

 

“Not here, honey, this is a wholesome game show.” Derek rolls his eyes and hopes Stiles doesn’t go off uncontrollably again but doesn’t think he would mind seeing him smile like that again. An assistant comes and leads Derek away to write out his answer while Stiles gets up to do the coin toss with Lynn. 

 

“Stiles has won the coin toss. Here is our  _ final _ question,” Alex pauses dramatically and Derek reads the question on the paper in front of him and freezes. “ _ What would your partner save if their house caught on fire? _ ”

 

Derek feels all of his muscles clench and the pencil in his hand snaps into two pieces making the assistant squeak in terror. His heart is pounding and his breath is caught somewhere in the bottom of his throat. He struggles to contain his wolf and he has to seek out Stiles’ heartbeat to calm himself. Amongst the waves crashing in his ears he hear Stiles’ strong and tense voice. 

 

“No, I refuse to answer.” Derek looks up and sees the man as he sits up perfectly straight and crosses his arms. He watches as Alex flounders for a moment and turns to Lynn. Lynn looks at Stiles with a calculating gaze and glances at where he and Rachel are sitting. She seems to find what she’s looking for because she nods minutely and turns back to Alex.

 

“I will not answer either.”

 

“I uh, we’ll take five. Again.” Before the lights are even down Stiles is making his way to Derek and sitting in front of him. 

 

“Hey, you’re safe. I’m here. The sky is partly cloudy today. The floor is a dark wood. You’re wearing jeans. You’re safe.” Stiles says all of this in a hushed voice and Derek lets the words fall over him. “You’re safe, Alpha, I’m here.” Derek looks into Stiles eyes and, risks be damned, flashes his eyes. Stiles smiles and reaches out slowly. Derek closes the distance and presses his face into Stiles’ hand. 

 

***

 

“I hope they enjoy their cruise.” Stiles says, wind blasting his wind around as they drive to Yosemite. 

 

“I’m sure they will,” Derek says, “Rachel said she always wanted to go to the Caribbean for her honeymoon.”

 

“It was nice of them to loan us their cabin.” 

 

“Happy honeymoon, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for Spouse House Trivia! Again, I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for the fun questions :)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know they never actually went to the game show but maybe as a bonus chapter later?? {i.e. - send me funny game show-esque questions to ask the boys ;) }
> 
> Catch me on the [Tumbs!!](http://ajeepandleather.tumblr.com)


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